


World Conference Chaos

by AcidRainSoup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, France Being France (Hetalia), Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking, World Meeting (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidRainSoup/pseuds/AcidRainSoup
Summary: Trouble ensues between England and France during a World Meeting and Germany decides to end their petty squabbling by turning their argumentive shrieks into that of shrieks of pain. This Hetalia fanfic includes the non-consensual (but very much needed) spankings of two bratty countries. If corporal punishment isn't your thing, I suggest you not continue reading this story. Otherwise, enjoy~
Kudos: 10





	World Conference Chaos

Germany sighed deeply as he sat in one of the cushy chairs around the large wooden table in an equally large room. It was time for another World Conference, and as always, he would have to be the one in charge. Along with dealing with the stress of talking about how his country was doing, Germany had to keep all of the other nations from tearing each other apart. As everyone began to file into the room, the drama began almost immediately.

France was about to sit next to Canada who looked thankful he was being acknowledged when England stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "What do you think you're doing frog-face?"

France rolled his eyes and chuckled in bemusement before turning to face his rival. "I am zitting next to mon cher, Mathieu." He replied calmly, ruffling Canada's honey-coloured hair affectionately. Canada blushed at the use of his human name in France's tongue and waved in England's direction shyly.

As if seeing him for the first time, which was accurate, the Brit nodded tightly to the Canadian before replying to the Frenchman. "Either way, that is where I always sit, so you will have to find somewhere else."

France scoffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Iz zhis kindergarten? We do not 'ave certain zeats. Well, maybe you are in kindergarten zeeing az you 'ave zo many imaginary friends." 

England turned bright red at the teasing and jabbed France right in the center of his chest. "Shut your bloody mouth, France! You're just jealous you don't have your own Flying Mint Bunny!"

By this time, all of the other nations were getting tense from the arguing. So if the others were given long looks, bumped in the side by accident, or anything petty for that matter, more scraps broke out. Italy scrambled under the table to get away from the noise and his older brother, who was searching for him in a predatory manner. The cowardly nation climbed into Germany's lap, his famous surrender flag in hand while Romano's back was turned.

"Germany, make all the fighting stop~" The thin Italian begged lamely, using his free hand to grip his friend's tie. Germany blushed at how close Italy was, even though he should be used to it by now, and nodded.

"Ja, ja, I vill handle it. Now get off of me." With a thankful smile, Italy obliged and the burly nation stood. Inhaling sharply, Germany slammed his large hands down on the surface of the table as he usually did to get a crowd's attention. Unlike Germany when it came to affection, the gathered countries were more exposed to the sound and quieted.

"Do I alvays have to start zhese meetings like zhis? You all know zhe drill, so take your damn seats! But zhis time, if any of you get us off track again, you vill be going out into zhe hall vith me to chat. Got it?" In all of their mother languages, the nations agreed respectfully and sat.

Thanks to the threat of having a chat in the hall with the impatient German, everyone behaved themselves to the best of their abilities. But of course, not everyone's obedience capacities were high to begin with. France, who was becoming quite bored listening to England's report, decided to make it a little more interesting. He grabbed a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket, and stealthily slipped it underneath the tabletop.

"So I would like to formally thank you, Germany, for our traded resources and-" While his rival was in the middle of talking about trading treaties, France jabbed the Brit in his inner thigh, the unexpected touch in an awkward spot making England squeak. "B-Biscuits!" 

Prussia and Spain, who were members of the Bad Touch Trio along with France, held in snickers as they realized what their companion was up to, while the rest of the group stared at England in confusion. Unfortunately for France, Germany was Prussia's brother, so he had heard the many tales of what trouble they caused. One glance at his older brother with a hand over his mouth told him all he needed to know.

"Is zhere an issue here England, France?" Germany rumbled firmly, watching as France flushed at being called out by a nation he feared, making it near impossible to deny he had done something wrong. 

"You are such a bloody pervert, France!" England snarled, trying to hide his humiliation behind anger, as usual. All else left his mind except putting his rival in his place.

"Here'a we go," Romano mumbled in Spain's ear as England stood to glower at France. Spain nodded and rested his head on a fist to watch what was about to happen.

"O' come on mon ami, I was just messing around, no 'arm came to you so w'at iz zhe big deal?" France explained nervously as Germany began to stand as well, an abrupt warning to cut the nonsense in half, was in his blue eyes.

"You stupid git, just wait until I'm finished with you!" With that, England grabbed France by the front of his formal shirt, pulling him to his feet. He then grabbed the pen and snapped it in half, letting the ink ooze onto the masculine diva's outfit. 

France gasped dramatically and shoved him away so he stumbled. For a few moments, both nations fought fist against fist until Germany stomped over, grabbing them both by the backs of their shirts. 

"Enough! Both of you go into zhe hall und vait for me. As for zhe rest of you, continue on vith your reports und catch me up aftervards." Before France and England could try to slip away, Germany herded them outside, the others watching as they left.

"Okay everyone, before we continue, the hero says we should make bets on what we think Germany is going to do to them!" America piped up mischievously, pulling out his wallet and waving it in his hand like a mini flag. Genuinely curious what the others would guess, most of the gathered nations agreed to the bet, and searched for any pocket money they had spare.

In the hall, Germany was giving the previously bickering countries a knife-sharp glare that had France whimpering, and England playing with his sleeves nervously. "It's pathetic for me to say I am not surprised you vere the ones to ruin the peace. You are both dummköpfes!"

With a grimace, England lifted his gaze to the taller man's. "France s-started it."

A groan escaped Germany's lips as he dragged a hand across his face. "I don't care who started zhe argument, England, you started zhe fight even though I made it perfectly clear I had things under control! You are both at fault, und vill be punished for such childish behaviour. Now, come vith me." 

Not surprisingly, neither of the accused countries moved an inch. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Germany once again grasped their collars and pulled them into a nearby storage room.

The room was dark, filled with stacked chairs and taped up boxes with vague labels on their sides. The tallest man threw the other two into the room, switched on the light, and locked the door behind him. France immediately scrambled to hide beneath one of the chairs, muttering a prayer in French so quickly, no one could tell which prayer he was reciting.

"Get out from under zhere France, zhere is no escaping zhis." Germany sighed, lifting up the chair and setting it down to sit on. France squeaked at the exposure and jumped to his feet like a tense spring being released.

"S-so what is our punishment?" England asked quietly, just wanting to get this over with. Germany crossed his arms as he sat back in the chair and looked them over strictly.

"Your punishment is zhis; go stand in zhe corner."

France let out a relieved sigh and scrambled through the boxes to one of the corners while England just stared at the seated nation in bemusement. "Are you bloody serious? You humiliated us in front of everyone and scared us both witless, just to make us stand in corners?!"

France snorted, not at all shocked that England was putting up a fight much like a defiant child. "Tais-toi, Angleterre! 'E is going easy on us, just do as 'e says."

England turned to sneer at his rival, his nose turned up arrogantly. "I will not submit to such treatment, unlike you, France. You are such a quivering cow- Ack!" The British man was interrupted as Germany took his wrist and yanked him forward so he was set over his muscular legs.

"You vere right, England. Not only vill you both stand in corners, but you vill be spanked. I predicted you would be resistant to such a simple order, zherefore, you vill go first." With that, Germany removed his belt and placed in on the ground next to the chair for later.

Before beginning, the German soldier glanced over at France who was trembling so badly, it looked as if he could break the floor beneath him like a jackhammer. The Frenchman paled as Germany's blue eyes drilled into his darker ones. "Face zhe corner, Francis. I did not say you could turn around, did I?"

"J-je suis désolé, Monsieur Beilschmidt!" France stammered in French before spinning on his heel to face the wall again. That taken care of, the blond man returned his attention to England who was wiggling about in discomfort.

"Germany, please don't do this old chap, I beg of you!" The British nation pleaded, sweat already covering his face and palms as he awaited what he knew was inevitable. Germany glared down at the back of the other nation's head, noting how he flinched in response to the obvious gaze on him.

"It's too late for zhat, my friend. You should consider yourself lucky my vater is not here. If he vere, he vould have spanked you both in front of zhe others without thinking twice." What Germany said rang true to the two troubled countries.

France had heard stories of the great nation Germania and his creative ways of discipline from Prussia many times, and England being the bookworm he was had read a lot about him and his fierceness in battle. It would have made them both pity and feel bad for Germany and Prussia growing up if they weren't in this current situation. Knowing there was no getting out of this, England quieted and tensed to prepare himself for the first blow as his trousers were brought down to his ankles, and undergarments dragged down just enough for a fair amount of skin to be exposed.

As soon as that was done, Germany brought his hand down on England's backside with enough force, the Brit knew this wasn't his first time spanking someone. England tried his best to not yelp out in pain, scrambling to mentally calm down in the time before the next smack, but it was a lot shorter of a break than he expected. By the second, poor England couldn't contain a sharp gasp, tears forming in the corners of his dull green eyes.

"Let zhis serve as a reminder to you both zhat you cannot expect such petty skirmishes to go unaddressed, especially around me." Germany lectured as he continued with the strong slaps. Each hit sent a jolt through England's whole body, a few droplets of tears spilling out of his eyes and onto the dusty floor like tea sloshing from a full cup.

After a dozen smacks, Germany paused and England allowed his tense body to go limp in the bigger nation's lap. Just as he mustered the strength to begin to stand, the blond German placed a firm hand on the small of his back to prevent him from getting up. The whole room went still as the only sound that could be heard was a delicate clinking, as the belt was picked up.

"Germany, please don't do this!" England sobbed in desperation as the belt was folded and gripped tightly. 

"Shut it, England, unless you want extra," Germany growled stubbornly as he brought the tight strip of leather down on England's already pink rump. With each crack of the belt, a bellow of pain followed. Then there were a few sniffles before the pattern repeated itself.

It was another dozen licks with the belt before Germany hauled England to one of the free corners and caught France by the wrist, who was already in tears. "S'il vous plaît ayez pitié!" France begged towards the German.

"Nein!" He snapped, bending the Frenchman over the arm-less chair seeing as he was taller than England and wouldn't fit properly over his lap in such a small chair. France was silently grateful he wouldn't have to endure the same child-like position as his rival, but this position was definitely going to make his ageing muscles sore.

He trembled and whimpered vigorously as his trousers and boxers were pulled away, and Germany knelt forward with one knee ahead of the other to begin spanking the older of the two guilty countries. "It is an embarrassment zhat you both behave like children even zhough you are big brothers to younger, impressionable nations like America und Canada. Did you let zhem behave like zhis when zhey vere small? I certainly hope not!"

Francis howled in agony at the first hit, always being very sensitive to pain, his howls only getting louder with each slap. After five, Germany was beginning to get a headache from the animal-like noises. He stopped and grabbed the cotton handkerchief France kept in his pocket at all times, guiding the piece of fabric to France's mouth as he panted weakly. 

"Put zhis in before someone valks in on what sounds like murder." The German murmured, as to keep England from hearing of the small mercy he was providing. France opened his mouth a little and clutched the soft but thick material between his teeth tightly. It muffled the rest of the barehanded blows but once that dozen was done, the belt was brought out once more. 

The sound of leather meeting naked skin filled the room once again, the discomfort it caused Francis making the cloth in his mouth tear from gritting his teeth. Once it was over, Germany released France and called England over. Both countries faced him but did not meet his gaze as they adjusted their undergarments and pants. France slipped the ruined handkerchief in his pocket with a shaky hand before England could notice, and England grabbed his own from his blazer to dab at his watery eyes discreetly.

"Now, ve are going to back in zhat conference room und behave like proper nations. Am I correct?" Both of the recently disciplined countries nodded glumly, quite embarrassed of the sort of punishment they got from a country younger than them both.

"Am I correct?" Germany repeated in a more firm tone that he often used with Italy when he was slacking. England and France flinched and both agreed in unison.

"Oui!"

"Absolutely!"

"Good. Come along." Germany unlocked the storage room and led them back to the conference room where the others were waiting patiently. Everyone looked up curiously as the doorknob twisted and they all scrambled to take their original spots and made it look like the had been talking about how China had been doing.

The strong blond returned to his seat and was immediately given a concerned look from Italy. Germany blushed and waved his friend off as England and France stiffly took their seats, and held back barks of discomfort as their tender backsides met the cushions of their chairs.

The conference went on without any more hitches, no one daring to cause trouble seeing as France and England were both quiet and said nothing unless spoken to, much like reckless soldiers who had been straightened out by their commander. When it was all over, the nations all went to talk with their clicks before leaving as usual, though England and France kept to themselves.

Canada looked at France who was far from the table and looking down at his boots lifelessly. The younger country fiddled with his glasses before heading over to the fashionista with Kumajiro by his side as always. "Are you okay, Papa?" He asked quietly, his violet eyes glazed with worry. 

France smiled softly and caressed Canada's cheek fondly before kissing it. "Non, but I will be, mon petit." He assured the Canadian as he let his fingers trail Mathew's hair curl. "It is nothing your Papa cannot 'andle."

Mathew nodded slowly, feeling some tension release from his shoulders knowing Francis was well enough to show his usual affections. "May I ask what happened?" He asked politely, stroking Kumajiro's head as the bear pawed at his legs for attention. 

France blushed and laughed nervously. "You'll 'ave to get me very drunk to get zhat answer." He replied, making Canada cock his head slightly in interest, though he didn't push the Frenchman further on the matter.

On the opposite end of the room, America was not respecting his big brother's privacy as always, pestering him about the event endlessly until the Brit slapped him upside the head and stormed out. Then, all of the nations that had gambled and those who didn't scooted together while Germany was talking to the other members of the Axis Powers.

They all rambled on about what they suspected had happened and pieced together clues, until Russia stepped forward and chuckled. "Germany shlepali them, just as I guessed. I know the look. Fidgety, quiet, in pain that is not visible to others. It sounds right, da?" The Baltic Trio all squirmed at the prediction they knew on a personal level, making all the others believe what Ivan was suggesting, and fear him even further.

"M-maple," Canada squeaked, looking around for France and seeing him following England out. America burst out laughing as he took out his wallet. 

"I don't care that I lost, that is awesome, bros! Looks like Russia won the bet."

In the hall, France chased after England, wincing as his backside acted up as he ran. "Angleterre, wait!"

England turned to glare at him, though his eyes did not hold their usual spark. They had been dimmed by the humiliation he had endured around the Frenchman he disliked so much. "What do you want, you bloody git?" He asked tiredly as he continued to head to the exit.

"I just wish to apologize to you, Angleterre. I s'ould not 'ave be'aved like zhat, it was very puéril."

England blushed. "It's quite all right, Francis. Maybe we should make a truce to get along exclusively around Germany." Francis laughed his stereotypical French laugh and clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Oui, I think that would be for zhe best. Would you like to join me for some wine?"

The Brit shrugged as he continued walking with his common drinking buddy at his side. "Very well, as long as we don't sit on those bloody bar stools, I'm in." With that, both nations started out for a long night of drinking, unaware that their fellow countries were very much aware of what had occurred and eager to sneak a peek the next time it happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Mon cher- French for, My darling  
> Ja- German for, Yes  
> Mon ami- French for, My friend  
> Dummköpfes- German for, Dumbasses  
> Tais-toi- French for, Shut up  
> Angleterre- French for, England  
> Je suis désolé, Monsieur Beilschmidt!- French for, I am sorry, Mr Beilschmidt!  
> Chap- English for, A male companion  
> Vater- German for, Father  
> S'il vous plaît ayez pitié!- French for, Please have pitty!  
> Nein!- German for, No!  
> Oui- French for, Yes  
> Non- French for No  
> Mon petit- French for, My little/my little one  
> Shlepali- Russian for, Spanked  
> Da- Russian for, Yes  
> Puéril- French for, Childish


End file.
